


Tangled Roots

by totally_loca



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: 5 Times, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-19
Updated: 2014-03-19
Packaged: 2018-01-16 08:26:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1338724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/totally_loca/pseuds/totally_loca
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times Aramis and Porthos looked after Athos.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tangled Roots

**Author's Note:**

> For the [kink meme prompt](http://bbcmusketeerskink.dreamwidth.org/774.html?thread=39942#cmt39942):
> 
> Athos leans on Aramis and Porthos far more than you'd think. He might act like the leader but he needs them to keep him going/look after him/withold alcohol. Anything that shows Aramis and Porthos looking after Athos, d'Artagnan can be in there as well but I'd prefer OT3 or OT4 rather than Athos/d'Artagnan.

Porthos sighed as he watched Athos clumsily drain his latest bottle of wine. The man was well into his cups this evening in a way he hadn’t seen for a while. He sighed again when Athos gestured for another bottle and shook his head at the barman when he looked over at him.   
Slumped over the table, it took Athos a few moments to notice no wine was forthcoming. When he did he heaved himself upright, a belligerent set to his face. Before he could open his mouth Porthos was there, gently but firmly guiding him up out of his seat and into the street. 

The cold night air hit Athos and he swayed dangerously, his face turning an ominous shade of green. With a wry chuckle Porthos spun his friend to face the wall. The chuckle turned to a sympathetic wince as Athos revisited everything he had imbibed that day. Porthos waited patiently for him to finish but had to lunge forward and catch him by the back of his coat when he came perilously close to falling face first into his vomit. He sighed once more when Athos turned to him, hangdog eyes staring up at him.   
“What are we going to do with you?” he mumbled, smoothing sweat-soaked hair back off the other man’s forehead before gripping him more firmly around the waist and pointing them homewards.

They made it back to the barracks easily enough. Athos had pulled away to purge his guts twice more before passing out, making it a simple matter of hefting him over a shoulder to get him back safely. 

Porthos bit back a smile when he noticed a light flickering under Aramis’s door. Their third had begged off earlier in the evening, supposedly to visit a lady friend but Porthos was unsurprised to find Aramis lounging on the bed in his braies reading when he opened the door. 

He looked up with raised eyebrows as they clattered into the room before stifling a laugh as Porthos dropped Athos carelessly onto the bed beside him. The jolt woke Athos slightly and he blinked up at the ceiling for a moment before he rolled over with a groaned “Ar’mis” and buried his face into Aramis’s hip. Aramis laughed softly as he put his book down and ran a hand over Athos’s head. A wet cloth hit his arm and he looked up to grin at Porthos. The smile died as he registered the concern on Porthos’s face as he gazed down at their leader. “Worse than usual?” he asked softly, nudging Athos over so he could wipe down his face.   
Porthos grunted his agreement as he made quick work of his own clothes. Aramis sighed and they worked together to strip Athos of his, well practised by now. 

When they were done Porthos manhandled the groggy man into a more comfortable position in Aramis’s arms before sliding into the bed behind him and cuddling in close. He found Aramis’s hand over Athos’s waist and gave it a squeeze as he blew out the candle.

~~~*~~*~~~

Aramis startled visibly when Porthos dropped onto the bench next to him. He glanced over to find the larger man laughing at him but only pulled a face and went back to his contemplation. Porthos nudged him gently, ghosting a hand over his hand, and followed his gaze, unsurprised when it landed on Athos. The older man was sat alone at a neighbouring table listlessly pushing his food around his plate, an empty flagon of wine in front of him.  
“Still not eating?” Porthos murmured, leaning his chin on Aramis’s shoulder. The other man relaxed into him even as he shook his head, frowning.

The next evening found Athos in the same position, once again not even attempting to eat his food, when Aramis appeared in front of him.  
“Alright. Enough.”   
Athos blinked up at him.  
“Come on. Get up.” Aramis commanded, tugging at his sleeve.  
Athos gestured half-heartedly at his plate, a protest barely formed.   
“You obviously have no interest in it, just like you haven’t for the past two nights, so just leave it and come with me.” Aramis rolled his eyes at Athos’s look of surprise. “Of course we noticed.” He pulled the other man up from his seat, covering his worry when Athos stumbled upon standing with another eye roll. 

Aramis steered a pliant Athos back to his room but the older man stopped dead when the door opened. Porthos was standing by the window, a blanket spread out across the floor covered in plates, picnic-style, and candles flickering. Aramis left him in the doorway and stole a quick kiss from Porthos before toeing out of his boots, discarding his weapons and collapsing onto the blanket. Porthos laughed at him and went to collect their wayward leader. He gently pulled Athos fully into the room with a kiss to his knuckles and removed his own boots, gesturing for Athos to do the same whilst relieving him of his weapons. Once done, Athos was pushed to sit beside Aramis and he accepted a goblet of wine gratefully. He drank deeply before glancing up at the pair. Porthos had settled across from them and both were watching him anxiously. He looked away, his cheeks flushing. 

To his relief neither man made a comment and instead worked in tandem, Porthos reaching for the goblet and Aramis pressing a plate into his hands. Athos had to blink hard when he focused on the food; ripe strawberries, glazed ham and fresh bread, all his favourites. “You-,” he coughed to clear his throat, “You spoil me.”   
The two men laughed brightly. “Us? Spoil you? Never.” Porthos grinned as Aramis leaned over to kiss Athos’s cheek whilst filching a strawberry to hold up to his lips. Athos took a bite when the fruit was pressed to his lower lip, a low moan escaping at the sweetness as juice ran down his chin. Porthos leant forwards and kissed him, tongue boldly swiping away the juice. Both he and Aramis pulled away together and smiled sweetly at Athos who huffed out a laugh at the pleased looks they both wore.   
“Better.” Aramis grinned. “Now eat.”

~~~*~~*~~~

“You’re bleeding.” Athos looked around at Porthos’s statement. The three of them were leant against each other, taking comfort in the fact they were all still standing. Porthos gestured vaguely at Athos’s shoulder, then jolted to catch Aramis as the motion dislodged him.  
Athos looked down and then shrugged, wincing slightly as the wound pulled. “It’s nothing, a mere scratch.”  
“Still. Let me take a look at it when we get back,” said Aramis, clasping both his friends on the arm and then stumbling back towards his horse. He glanced briefly at the men they’d left groaning on the ground. The other two followed.

It wasn’t until training three days later that they suddenly remembered the wound on Athos’s shoulder. He was duelling with one of the other musketeers but his movements were laboured, unlike his usual fluid style. Aramis paused in fighting Porthos and nearly got a sword to his neck as a result. He glared at Porthos who grinned back, sword tip still resting on his neck, until a grunt drew their attention back to Athos. He feinted away from a blow and then faltered on his attack, sword clattering to the ground as his eyes rolled back into his head.  
Porthos caught him before he hit the ground. “He’s burning up.”  
“Upstairs. Now.” Aramis instructed before barking out orders for hot water at the other stunned musketeers and hurrying off to find his kit. 

Porthos laid Athos gently on his bed and carefully stripped his sweat-soaked shirt. He cursed violently at the sight before him. It wasn’t a major wound, Athos had been right: but left untreated “just a scratch” had become an inflamed red slash oozing foul-smelling pus. Aramis’s reaction echoed Porthos’s as he entered the room. Porthos took one look at Aramis’s face and shook his head. “It’s not your fault.”  
“But I forgot. He was bleeding and I forgot.” Aramis’s tone was stricken. “How did I not notice for three days!”  
“I forgot too. He’s been avoiding us.” Porthos took the pan of water from Aramis’s trembling hands, placed it down and then hugged him tightly. “He’ll be fine.” He assured him, pressing a firm kiss to Aramis’s forehead then releasing him. Aramis clutched at Porthos’s shirt for a moment longer before nodding and setting to work.

They managed to clean and bandage the wound before Athos woke up. He sat up suddenly, startling Aramis who had been staring moodily into the empty grate. Porthos had gone to get rid of the medical detritus and find more wine. “What happened?” Athos groaned, letting Aramis push him back against the pillows and gratefully accepting the wine pressed into his hand.   
“You fainted.” Aramis snapped, sliding into the bed beside him and pressing in close. He rest his hand over Athos’s heart, cheek squashed against his uninjured shoulder. Athos looked down at him. “You let your wound get infected. We forgot about it. You avoided us.” Aramis mumbled, kissing the skin closest to him. 

“But Aramis used his nursemaid skills and patched you up, so you should be as good as new if you rest for a day or two.” Porthos spoke up, smiling at the pair of them affectionately and saluting Aramis with the bottle when he flipped him off lazily for his nursemaid comment. His look turned stern as he gazed at Athos. “But next time just let him look at it in the first place, before you scare us witless by collapsing.” He scolded, sliding into the bed. Athos smiled up at him meekly. Porthos rolled his eyes then kissed Athos gently, settling in and stroking Aramis’s hair.

~~~*~~*~~~

Aramis dropped into the seat next to Porthos with a tired smile, eyeing the Red Guards opposite. Deciding Porthos was fine for now, Aramis looked around, his smile fading. “Where’s Athos?”  
Porthos glanced up briefly from his card game. “I thought he was with you.”  
“No,” Aramis replied slowly. “I haven’t seen him all day.”  
“I haven’t seen him since this morning.” Porthos’s attention shifted to focus fully on Aramis, their eyes meeting as their unease grew. Porthos turned back to the Red Guards with an easy grin that belied his tension. “Sorry lads, looks like I’ll have to finish stealing, I mean winning, your money some other time.” He scooped up the pot and cards and was out the door after Aramis before the men could protest.

They hurried to Athos’s room and knocked loudly. When there was no answer Aramis tried the door: locked. He rattled the doorknob and a slurred “g’way” sounded from inside. Porthos shouldered the door open with surprisingly little force. Inside Athos was slumped against the wall surrounded by empty bottles. “Said g’way.” Athos slurred, toasting them sloppily.   
“And when do we listen?” Aramis commented closing the door behind them.  
“Never.” Athos downed another large gulp of wine, his head clunking back against the wall as he swallowed. 

“I think you’ve had enough.” Porthos plucked the bottle away. Athos rolled his head sideways to gape at him for a moment before surging upright and launching himself at Porthos, attempting to claw the bottle back. The larger man held it easily out of reach and Athos thumped him solidly in the shoulder. Aramis made a noise of protest but Porthos shook his head at him over Athos when he went to pull him away. Aramis pouted at him but took the bottle and cleared away the empties before settling against the windowsill to watch them. Athos didn’t stop at one punch, he landed thump after thump against Porthos’s chest. But they were pure frustration coupled with angry tears and mumbled nonsense rants.

Eventually Athos ran out of steam and fell, sobbing, to the floor. Aramis caught him before he landed, arms under his armpits, and lowered them both more cautiously to their knees. Porthos wrapped his arms around them both, pulling them in and holding on tightly.

~~~*~~*~~~

The three of them tumbled through Aramis’s door and scrambled towards the fireplace. Aramis grabbed the flints and attempted to light the logs already prepped. “C’mon, c’mon. So fucking cold.” Porthos chanted in his ear, draping himself over Aramis’s back.  
“I’m trying.” Aramis bit out, as his fingers fumbled. Athos took the flints and lit the fire easily, smirking at the pouting Aramis and jubilant Porthos. They both reached for him, Aramis’s pout softening to a delighted smile when they ended up jumping around in a strange three-way jig as the fire started roaring.

“Still cold.” Porthos whined, somehow worming his hands up under Aramis’s shirt causing him to yelp and squirm away. He slapped at Porthos and cuddled up behind Athos instead. Aramis sniffed dramatically and pressed his nose into Athos’s neck, causing him to shiver.   
“Not fair.” Athos sighed, covering Aramis’s hands where they were resting on his belly. Aramis laughed and kissed his neck instead. “Better.”  
“Where are your gloves?” asked Porthos, using the pairs’ joined hands to pull them back to him.   
“Where are yours?” Athos retorted, surrendering easily to Porthos’s kiss.   
“Am I the only one wearing gloves?” Aramis asked, watching the two men contentedly.  
Porthos leant back and laughed at Aramis again. “For once, you are the sensible one, yes.”  
This time Aramis’s pout was exaggerated but a devious look quickly spread across his face as Athos shivered against him. “You know,” he drawled, “there’s another way to warm up.”  
Both Athos and Porthos groaned at his insinuation but neither of them protested when his numb fingers started pulling clumsily at their buttons.

They separated to strip more efficiently, staying close to the fire. As soon as they were naked they gravitated back to each other. Aramis kissed Porthos’s cheek and then Athos’s before moving to his lips. The kiss started chastely but it deepened suddenly when Athos groaned in response to Porthos’s cold fingers pinching at his nipples. Aramis pressed his advantage and licked into Athos’s mouth eagerly, groaning when Porthos rolled one of his nipples between his fingertips. Athos pulled away with a ragged gasp when Porthos’s hand found his cock, head falling back onto Porthos’s shoulder.   
“Always looking after me.” Athos rasped, hands clutching at Aramis’s upper arms.  
Aramis grinned at Porthos and leaned in closer, his hardening cock brushing Athos’s, and Porthos’s knuckles, causing him to groan. He kissed Porthos lewdly, Athos panting in their ears. Aramis withdrew and then darted back for another quick kiss just to feel Porthos smile. He returned to Athos, kissing along his jaw and moving down his throat before biting lightly at his collarbone. 

Porthos kept his hand moving at a steady pace working Athos to full hardness, every so often swiping his thumb over the tip of his cock and making his breath catch. Aramis worked his way slowly down Athos’s body playing particular attention to his nipples and the line of his bottom ribs knowing how it made him squirm. He dropped to his knees and kissed along Athos’s hipbones before glancing up to find both Athos and Porthos watching him intently. Porthos’s hand had ceased moving but was still fisted loosely around the bottom of Athos’s shaft. He grinned up at the pair and before either of them could comment had swallowed down Athos’s cock, his lips touching Porthos’s fingers. 

Athos’s head fell back against Porthos’s shoulder, a low curse escaping him. When Aramis started moving he was grateful for Porthos’s arms holding him up. Aramis was as talented as his reputation suggested and knew exactly how to play Athos’ body to make him weak at the knees. Athos’s eyes rolled back as he felt Aramis’s throat flutter around the head of his cock: the feeling was immense. Porthos behind him, warm and solid, grinding forward, his hard cock riding the cleft of Athos’s arse, intensified the pleasure. Athos’s fingers twitched in Aramis’s hair where they’d become buried at some point before they clenched, tugging softly. Aramis looked up and Athos gulped out “close”. Aramis smiled around his cock and continued eagerly. But it was Porthos biting hard at the juncture of Athos’s neck and shoulder where he’d been mouthing that sent Athos sent over the edge with a wordless shout. He slumped against him panting harshly as Porthos tugged Aramis to his feet, crushing Athos between their chests as Porthos enthusiastically plundered Aramis’s mouth chasing Athos’s taste. They only broke the kiss when Athos nosed in silently demanding his own. Aramis laughed and pressed sloppy kisses all over one side of Athos’s face as Porthos captured his lips despite the awkward angle. 

Aramis pulled away from their warmth reluctantly, breaking their kiss as they both reached for him. All Athos could muster was a “-no” and a pout, which caused Porthos and Aramis to smile at their still blissed-out third.   
“I think what Athos means is: where do you think you’re going?” Porthos said, amused. Athos nodded lazily, hands resettling on Aramis’s shoulders.   
“We-ell...” Aramis trailed off, thrusting illustratively against Athos’s hip.   
Athos hummed appreciatively and pulled him closer, one hand reaching back to grasp Porthos’s erect cock. “Like this,” he mumbled, shifting enough to catch Porthos’s cock between his thighs, its head brushing enticingly at his balls, before sagging between them. Porthos let out a groan as the tight heat enveloped him and moved his own hands to Aramis’s buttocks, causing Aramis to rut against Athos. One of Athos’s hands slid to lace his fingers through Porthos’s on Aramis’s arse, his other once more entangling in Aramis’s hair where his face was buried in Athos’s throat. “Exactly like this,” Athos purred.


End file.
